


The County Set

by Luka



Category: Primeval
Genre: Established Relationship, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 06:07:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19901047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luka/pseuds/Luka
Summary: Lester has a very trying conversation with Lyle …





	The County Set

**Author's Note:**

> This may very well count as crack!fic. All you need to know is that there's a Primeval Denial in-joke about Lyle being banned from Somerset and Norfolk for unspecified misdeeds!

"Aberdeenshire?"

Lyle looked shocked. "Good god, no. I couldn't stand all that granite."

"Bedfordshire?"

"Luton Town do it in Beds," offered Lyle helpfully.

Lester treated the comment with the contempt it deserved. "Cambridgeshire?"

"Too flat."

"Devon?"

"Yokels."

"Essex?"

Lyle rolled his eyes and didn't even dignify the suggestion with a response.

"Fife?"

"It's the pits in more ways than one. And the girls up there make Blade look like a wuss."

"Gloucestershire?"

"Forest of Dean's there. Says it all."

"Hampshire?"

Lyle shuddered visibly. "Portsmouth's in Hampshire. And there be sailors. Nasty little blighters. I had a misunderstanding with one once."

"Does that mean you're banned from Portsmouth?"

Lyle looked shifty. "Might be."

"Speaking of which …"

"Don’t even think of the Isle of Wight," said Lyle quickly.

"Kent?"

"They talk funny there."

"Lancashire?"

"Their cheese tastes like soap. I do have some culinary standards, you know."

"Not many. The incident with the oysters has traumatised me for life."

"You promised you'd never refer to it again."

"Desperate measures," said Lester darkly. "Monmouthshire?"

"Sheepshaggers!"

"Seeing as Norfolk's out after that incident with Felix, how about Nottinghamshire?"

"I've read DH Lawrence."

"And …?"

"Woods," said Lyle cryptically.

"Oxfordshire?"

"Couldn't possibly go there. They're probably still filming Morse."

"I think you'll find John Thaw's been dead some years."

"Well, that spin-off with the Geordie bloke who looks like an IT middle manager, then …"

"Pembrokeshire?"

"They're Welsh there."

"Very true. And that's a problem in what way …?"

"Don’t ask. And don't think of suggesting Rutland next. Who wants a county which isn't even big enough to swing a cat in?"

Lester pinched the bridge of his nose. He had a headache approaching at speed, all lights flashing. "Very well. Somerset … Oh, wait, I forgot …"

Lyle glared at him balefully. "It wasn't my fault."

"Tyne and Wear?" said Lester hastily, not wishing to reopen old wounds.

"Now you're being silly."

Lester stared at him incredulously, opened his mouth to reply, then closed it. He said wearily: "Wiltshire. And that's my final offer."

Lyle beamed. "Why didn't you say something earlier? I've never been to Stonehenge."

"I thought you military types spent every available moment on Salisbury Plain."

Lyle looked disconsolate. "They wouldn't let us anywhere near Stonehenge. Claimed we couldn't be trusted …"

"I know the feeling," said Lester. He'd been beginning to think they'd have to go abroad for Christmas.


End file.
